


Reclaiming the Fire

by RubinaLadybug



Category: Daria (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:28:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25061620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubinaLadybug/pseuds/RubinaLadybug
Summary: After returning from her artist colony, Jane talks with Ms. Defoe about art and the art world. One shot.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	Reclaiming the Fire

**Author's Note:**

> I was reaching the end of my first Daria fanfic A Moment Behind the Mask when I got the idea for a story between Jane and Defoe. Since both love art, and since Defoe highly praises Jane’s work, I figured the two could talk after Jane’s fiasco at that artist’s colony in IIFY. I had trouble writing Jane. She’s an awesome force that’s tough to capture. But I think I managed to pull her off for this one shot. Enjoy!

_**Reclaiming the Fire** _

Groans and grunts echoed against the hallways. Lockers slammed. Shoes lazily slid against the linoleum floor. Student life sluggishly reentered Lawndale High School. Another year had started, but the weather was still warm. Teens gathered in their groups and moaned about rising up in the morning and wasting time inside classrooms and books over shops and trinkets until December.

Two friends, having reconciled over the summer, walked together down the bustling hallway. Daria fixed her view straight ahead while Jane sauntered absentmindedly. They held in their hands their class schedule. They knew what to expect from their eccentric teachers and their dimwitted peers.

Daria droned, “We have a bountiful schedule this year—English with O’Neil, History with DeMartino, Science with Barch, Economics with Bennett, and Art with Defoe. Same as last year.”

Jane quickly replied, “Actually, I’m not sure if I wanna take Art this year.”

Daria stopped walking. “What?”

Jane stopped as well. “Well, you know, I thought I’d take another class and catch up on my sleep. Or rather, continue my sleep.”

“Jane Lane dropping Art?” The bespectacled girl grew worried. “This isn’t about what happened between us just before summer, is it?”

“Nah, of course not, freakin’ friend.”

“Then what, freakin’ friend?”

“I figured with this being our final year imprisoned within these cursed walls that I spread my glorious wings and try something else.”

“Only for the system to clip your soaring wings, causing you to fall flat onto your face. Now what’s really going on?”

Jane started walking once more. “Nothing. But maybe I can try Home Economics instead. I can use an awesome pastry bag and eat what I make.”

Daria followed. “Until your stomach gives way.”

“I can guarantee you that I won’t need another P.E. credit. Taking it once was bad enough.”

“And so was passing it by the skin of our teeth.”

“There’s Current Events to consider. Study a little photography and how it shapes a story. Or Computer Science. I’ll get to work with cool graphic lessons.”

Daria stopped once more. “Jane, just about everything you listed had you returning to art. It’s a part of you. It’s a part of you that you never had apologized for.”

Jane stopped and mumbled, “And if Jane doesn’t have her art, then she’s nothing.”

Daria missed her friend’s response. “What?”

Jane hurriedly answered, “I think I’ll head to the academic counselor right now and switch my schedule.”

“If you do drop Art, what about Ms. Defoe? She’ll be disappointed not seeing you in her class.”

“Hmm… Think if I dodge her enough she’ll think I transferred schools?”

Before the brunette could retort, Ms. Defoe, the school’s Art teacher, approached the pair with her earnest persona. “Jane, I was hoping I could talk to you before the start of class.”

Her plan spoiled, Jane placed on a weak smile. “Um, sure, I can spare a minute.”

Daria watched as the student and teacher migrated towards the Art room. She was about to continue on her way when another teacher called her.

“Oh, Daria,” Mr. O’Neil chirped, racing to catch up with the girl. “I wanted to ask you something.”

Daria immediately knew from the man’s cheerful tone that trouble was brewing.

* * *

The Art room for once was clean. A red paint stain from last year looked like it was there to stay. The easels and canvases were stacked up against the wall until the students mosey inside and knock everything to the ground. New pencils and paintbrushes sat inside tin cans just waiting to be used. A table carrying fruit was set for the first lesson in still life.

Jane grabbed a new paintbrush and held it between her fingers. Her soft blue eyes followed the unsoiled handle. Her thumb brushed against its fine bristles. While she displayed a strong front, she knew that if she dropped Art she would miss this place. Art was one class she received genuine praise over cruel criticism. Dropping Art would mean dropping a piece of herself. A large piece. However, her mind still rattled with the disappointments that happened over the summer. She was in a place where people yearned to express their ideas, visions, and emotions. Yet they treated her like an outcast. The same way everyone did here in Lawndale.

A compassionate voice broke her remorse memories. “How was your time at your artist’s colony?”

Jane snapped her head up and remembered whom she was talking to. Wanting to spare her favorite teacher, her eyes darted across the room. “Artist’s colony? What artist’s colony?”

“Ashfield?” Ms. Defoe clarified, focusing her attention to the girl in the red jacket. “You asked me to look over your portfolio before you submitted it last summer, remember?”

“Right, right.” Jane placed one hand behind her head. “There was paint… and canvases… and my usual lack of a social life. What’s more to say?”

“How was the environment?”

“The absence of a TV made the act of murder reasonable, and the only means of communication through a phone meant anyone could get away with it. But, hey, there was plenty of nature just out the window.”

“How about your peers?”

“I was the youngest one there. Kinda hard to hang out and do anything with a teenager. So I spent plenty of time sketching. I nearly filled out my artillery of sketch books.”

“Did you enjoy any of the lectures?”

“Their words did give my mind a chance to wander and create a series.” She tried to conclude her session so she could cement her decision to leave, “I say that attending Ashfield over the summer meant getting out of Lawndale for a bit and be exposed to some... points of view I never considered before?”

“That sounds great.” Ms. Defoe then smirked. “Now tell me how it really was.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t want to hear what you think you should say. I want to hear Jane Lane’s experience.”

The teen knew that Ms. Defoe was treating this situation like how she teaches her classes. The woman analyzed her like the many paintings her aged eyes had seen.

“Well… Let’s see… It uh…” Accepting defeat, Jane bitterly sighed, “It sucked.”

“Oh?” Ms. Defoe’s voice sounded surprised yet gentle and sympathetic. She reserved any opinions and permitted her student to express her view.

“I was excited to go, and I’m glad you helped me put together that portfolio but… Listening to all those high and mighty artists like Daniel Dotson… made me wanna puke. And my so called peers held their noses higher than the Empire State Building.”

“Is that why you’re thinking of dropping Art?”

“Oh… you heard that…”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“Yeah, I know.” Jane sighed. “Spending my summer at Ashfield debauched my view of art and the art world. Anyone who had gotten a gallery deal seemed to have gotten it based on connections over talent. All my pieces reflected that negative impression. I can’t find something that satisfies me anymore. Coming back to my final year at school and seeing what classes I signed myself up for got me thinking about my future and art and left me wondering…”

Jane rose her head and gave direct eye contact. “Is that all there is for art—selling myself out for galleries or teaching it? No offense.”

Ms. Defoe pondered what one of her best art students inquired. She then serenely smiled. “Tell you what, Jane, why don’t you become my teacher’s aide for this year?”

Jane’s eyes expanded. “Teacher’s aide? Where I betray my fellow prisoners and join the side of the guards?”

“You can get class credit for it.”

“Will I have to do much?”

“It’ll give you a chance to see others get inspired and paint rather than your usual period in solely taking part of the assignment. You can help pick which artists to study and make suggestions for what themes to paint. Since you spent the summer minding of what to paint, perhaps you can select what you want on your canvas if you choose to jump in. As for your future and art, maybe you’ll go into teaching; maybe you won’t. Maybe your work will get shown in those named galleries, maybe you’ll only sell them yourself on art walks. You don’t need to decide your entire future at this very moment. For now, all that matters is that you get inspired and do what you love.”

“I dunno… Wouldn’t it be better if I step away from my medium for a bit? Maybe get a new perspective?”

“Jane, you’re such a promising artist with a unique style. But there’s still so much you could learn. I really believe this will be a great opportunity for you. ‘To spread your glorious wings and soar’.”

The girl looked at the ground and pondered her options. She did decide to remain at Ashfield despite the corruption. And she would rather spend time in class with her only friend and a good teacher over studying alone in a subject she would likely regret taking. She shrugged in acceptance. “OK, I’m in. Some power is better than no power.”

“Great, I’ll go fill out your form.”

The two headed towards the door. Before she left, Jane’s eyes caught some art college brochures laying on a stand. She swiftly snatched them and placed them in her bag.

* * *

Outside the school, Jane found her friend and many students gathered, staring and mumbling at an eye-catching sight. “What happened here?”

Kevin and Brittany stood adjacent from Daria. The football player answered, “We were asking Mr. D. to be his teacher’s aide, you know, because it’s an easy credit.”

Brittany added, “But then he jumped out the window and sprained his leg.”

Daria quipped, “A splendid example of a man dedicated to his career… and his sanity.”

Kevin formed an idea. “I know! Let’s go get Mr. D. a get well card and visit him in the hospital!”

Brittany beamed. “Oh, Kevy! You’re so thoughtful!”

The two walked off towards the nearest drug store.

Jane muttered, “Won’t Mr. D. be surprised.”

“Yes,” Daria agreed. “So surprised that they might give him a heart attack before the school year can cause him that.”

The same man whom lept was rolled on a gurney. “Wait!”

The emergency personnel ceased their moving, and the injured man was now in front of Daria and Jane. Ignoring his throbbing leg, Mr. DeMartino looked at the girl wearing the green jacket. “Miss Morgandorffer, I need YOU to be my teacher’s aide.”

Daria tried to decline the request. “Um, I don’t think I can. My schedule is already full.”

“PLEASE! I already have KEVIN and BRITTANY for one class this year! I can’t handle THEM for another!”

“Looks like the burning ember of teaching quickly burned out for you.” Daria glanced away and spotted her English teacher waiting by the ambulance to be present for his friend. Taking her History teacher’s desperation and her own, she named her price. “Only if I don’t have to do anything for that period.”

“Fine!”

“And _you_ tell Mr. O’Neil that I can’t be his teacher’s aide because _you_ drafted me.”

“DEAL!”

The two girls watched as another injured educator was taken away to the Emergency Room.

Daria remarked with relief, “At least now Mr. O’Neil won’t turn his water works on me when he hears the news seeing how students can be a teacher’s aide for only one teacher for one period.”

Jane raised an eyebrow. “Mr. O’Neil asked you to be his teacher’s aide?”

“You know him. He wanted to extend his declarative role of being a writing mentor.” Daria faced her friend and asked her serious question, “Has Jane Lane reconsidered her position for Art? Or am I going to ignore Brittany and the others on my own?”

“You won’t be on your own,” Jane assured. “I reconsidered and decided I still have some things to learn and unlearn. And besides, I can’t be a sellout unless someone’s willing to buy. There’s work to be done.”

She was grateful to have a considerate teacher like Ms. Defoe. And she was glad that she and Daria patched up their friendship. She longed to stand once more in front of a blank canvas and hold that paintbrush once more in her hand. Thinking about the semester to come, the corners of her mouth curved upwards as oppose to her usual straight line.

Daria grew suspicious. “What are you smiling about?”

“It’s going to be a damn good year.”

“Optimist.”

**The End**


End file.
